I’m a day late, to welcome in one of my favourite months of the year. But, “Hello, November!” I’m looking forward to all that you bring, including: pumpkin pie, Thanksgiving dinner, frosty mornings, leaves turning a rainbow of colours before drifting to the earth where they become crunchy underfoot.
Candles lit early as darkness closes in. Twinkle lights glowing and music playing while we dance in the kitchen. I’m ready for lots of soup with grilled cheese sandwiches and bowls of homemade macaroni and cheese for dinner and roasted vegetables and mashed potatoes. I’m looking forward to long walks in the woods bundled up against the chill to see the trees lose their leafy clothing and become stark naked for winter. There is a magic to this month as we slip from autumn into winter and it holds a beauty all of its own.
After a lovely week off, enjoying each other’s company; lots of coffee, cake, music and candlelight; a day trip to Oxford and a stroll around one of our favourite places there, the botanic gardens; snuggling on the couch and watching lots of Halloween related movies, eating lots of Halloween candy while watching those movies, our week has flown by in a blink of an eye and we have arrived back at another Monday.
Monday, I don’t think I’m ready for you yet, I was having too much fun.
I like it, there is something so sing-song about it. When I hear it, I can see leaves changing colour, hayrides, pumpkins piled high, fresh apple cider, hot donuts and crispy skinned sausages. Barn dances under the full harvest moon and twinkle lights glowing. I can see Indian corn almost completely shucked and gathered by their dried husks, tied up with a ribbon and hanging on doors. I can smell the aroma of spice in the air, mingled with the scent of wood logs burning in open fires. When I hear this song, I can see autumn.
On Saturday, we celebrated the Autumnal Equinox by Mr. Michie taking me to a glorious horse chestnut tree he had found and we spent a good 20 minutes collecting handfuls of fallen conkers. We brought them home, scrubbed them clean, dried them and now they’re sitting in a bowl, nestled around a candle, with their shiny chestnut brown coats gleaming.
Since Saturday, it feels as if Mother Nature has kissed Summer on the cheeks and bid her adieu. It has been decidedly chilly and rainy. This morning we woke to clear skies and it had warmed up to a balmy 38°F when we left for school.
I’m not complaining; I love the crisp air, the crunch of leaves and acorns underfoot, the air that smells at once fresh and of an earthy dampness of leaves slowly decaying on the woodland floor. There is a magic to this time when one season slips into the next.
Fly Me To The Moon, is one of my favourite songs. It’s a song that has transcended musical boundaries. It’s a a close call, but I think Frank Sinatra is my favourite male singer of this tune, it’s his pacing that just makes it. Julie London’s rendition is perfectly classic, but that’s a close tie with the gorgeous Doris Day’s recording and if I’m in a jazz mood, only Vince Guaraldi will do. But, if I’m going old school, you can’t beat Bobby Womack. I’ve had this album spinning all week.